A nod. Jack puts the chemical thrower gently down once again. Then he strolls towards the table, a little more slowly and loudly than he's been walking up till now. La la la, no rush, not a fast-moving target.

There's a noise of movement overhead, quickly hushed.

Jack gets within spitting distance of the table before stopping and yanking the napalm can towards him with telekinesis. Instantly there's a scream of "Cheating! Cheating!!" from the hole in the ceiling and more scuffling, less restrained this time. Jack laughs and tosses the can underarm to Sinclair.

"Catch!"

He's got his other hand on his wrench in case the splicer(s) decide to abandon the ambush and attack -- but no need, they apparently know what's good for them.